Face Of My Son Poem by Abdul Wahab

Call on me the celebrating alphabets,
call on me the rainy days
Illusion through rain and storm, floats without any hints
the sound of words get imbalanced in the gray matter
Creating a psychological crisis,
but forgetting all deceptions
my fingers create old tunes again
and I go back at the source with iron determination
To appear mended after every break,
soul gets astonished
In the night soaked dark
while sea gathers foam, and the waves go tumultuous.
In the sigh of wind
i get a brief relief
tearing apart every blocking
when i see the smiling face of my son.